


The Long Night

by shadowsfan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Show Spoilers for Season 5, Show!canon divergence, This is my way of fixing things, Unapologetically self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan/pseuds/shadowsfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was:  Stannis realizes he made a grave mistake in trusting Melisandre but Davos is going to be there for his king no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the GoT fic exchange on Live Journal. I loved the prompt because it gave me the opportunity to re-write the ending to Season 5 of the show the way I wanted it to happen.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

 

Melisandre reached out to soothe Stannis but he jerked away from her touch. 

 

“She is my daughter!” 

 

He stared at the red priestess, barely able to control the rage burning the back of his throat like bile. Her demeanor was placid as ever, but he detected a rare spark of doubt in her eyes.

 

“Get out!” Stannis ordered. Melisandre complied without argument, but her gaze lingered and Stannis knew that she hadn’t yet given up.

 

When she was gone he slumped into his chair, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion ─ both mental and physical. He recounted the events of the past months, searching for some sense of how everything had gone so terribly wrong. He should have anticipated this. He should never have let it come to this! How could he have been so blind?! He thought he’d been using _her_ ─ harnessing her power to aid his cause against unbeatable odds. He’d complied with her demands when he’d felt it necessary. He’d given her Robert’s bastard. He’d burned those who had betrayed him and he had said the damned words of praise to _her_ fire god. These strange offerings _had_ worked to some extent. His enemies _had_ been defeated, despite all logic. Renly’s death ─ whatever that thing was that Davos had seen ─ _that_ had convinced him of the power of blood magic. Afterwards, there were the leeches that preceded the deaths of Robb Stark and Joffrey Baratheon. Surely there was magic at work there as well. But what of Balon Greyjoy? Did he not still live? What of the defeat at Blackwater? The Red Woman had said it was because he’d left her behind on Dragonstone. That was her answer. She always had an explanation.

 

Looking back on it, her prophecies seemed muddled at best. He had never believed that _he_ was the chosen one ─ her Azor Ahai ─ only that he was the rightful king of Westeros. Whatever he’d seen in the fire that day after Blackwater ─ his victory in the snow ─ certainly had been an hallucination brought on by his weakened state. Although he’d stared into a hundred fires since that night he’d never seen it again.

 

He’d thought he’d been using her, but in reality she’d been the one controlling him. He could see it clearly now. He’d been following her around like a blind fool, allowing her to manipulate him with a few magic tricks and her beauty. Oh, she _was_ beautiful ─ and he’d succumbed to her charms just like every other man she set her eyes upon. He’d coupled with her that night on Dragonstone ─ a ritual she’d demanded for her blood magic. He’d allowed himself to be seduced; there was no excuse for it. He’d wanted her power and he’d given her what she demanded in return. Since then, he’d been less than he was. He could feel it in his bones. He was weaker and more dependent on her each day after. What had she done to him that night? He couldn’t stop thinking about her ─ desiring her since that first night. In this he was no better than Robert.

 

Stannis realized that he’d begun to doubt in earnest when they’d arrived at the Wall. Lady Melisandre had taken a sudden interest in Jon Snow. _He has power_ , she’d said. If she was so certain that _he_ , was Azor Ahai, then why the interest in the young Lord Commander? She’d said they needed Snow to come with them. When he’d refused, she seemed changed somehow, not as confident. Stannis had ignored the warning voice that told him even _she_ had begun to doubt. Yet his red priestess had urged him on ─ ever forward.

 

Things began to fall apart: the weather, the desertions, the raid on their camp had each been a warning that he’d brushed aside. Lady Melisandre hadn’t foreseen any of it. Then she’d begun to talk of a sacrifice ─ a great sacrifice to R’hllor. She’d told him that the price for certain victory would be enormous. He would have to sacrifice the one thing he loved most ─ his daughter. He closed his eyes remembering the way she spoke the words ─ as if it were a selfless act of heroism instead of the most unnatural, repugnant act one could imagine. She’d waited until the situation was at its most dire, when there was almost no hope remaining, and then she’d come to him with this insanity. She would leave him no choice. He hated her for it.

 

Even now it was all he could do to keep his rage under control. He wanted to have Lady Melisandre executed the instant the suggestion had left her lips. Whatever trust he’d had in her, whatever desire he had for her, all of it was gone in an instant. The fraying rope that had kept him tethered to her snapped at last. She’d immediately sensed that she was losing her control over him and she’d put her hands on his shoulders. She’d tried once again to soothe him with her charms but he’d been repulsed by her touch and had pushed her away. He’d managed to maintain his composure with great effort. Killing her would serve no purpose and would only place his family in greater peril. The Red Woman’s following was still strong in their camp. He knew she had some power and could still prove a formidable enemy.

 

Besides, he was as much to blame as she. Was he not? Once, he had trusted her. He’d made her part of his inner circle. It was _his_ weakness of character, _his_ recklessness, _his_ lack of foresight that had brought them to this point. Davos had warned him. _Davos!_ Stannis’ eyes flew open. Rising from his chair stiffly, he knew what he must do. The situation was hopeless but he might still protect his family ─ his heir.

 

~~~~

 

“Ser Davos!” Stannis barked at his attendants outside the tent, “send him to me at once!”

 

Davos wasn’t far away and only a few minutes passed before he entered the king’s tent in a rush, brushing the snow from his heavy cloak. Stannis had been pacing and stopped.

 

“You summoned me, Your Grace?”

 

“The Lady Melisandre─” Stannis’ jaw tightened and he paused a long moment, taking his eyes off Davos’ face. “She is not to be granted access to myself or to my family again. See that she is confined to her quarters.”

 

“Your Grace?” Davos frowned. “It shall be done, as you wish, but may I ask why?”

 

“You were right about her, Ser Davos. I should have trusted your instincts but I did not. For that I owe you an apology.”

 

Davos remained silent but Stannis could tell that he was surprised and most likely pleased by this news. He had decided before the Hand arrived that he would not disclose what Melisandre had asked him to do. Ser Davos had grown very fond of Shireen and might attempt to seek his own vengeance. Stannis would be obligated by law to punish him for any actions he took against his wishes. Better the truth was known only to himself and the red priestess.

 

Stannis continued, “I now fear that the Princess Shireen may be in danger. It was a mistake on my part to bring her with us.”

 

Davos stiffened, concern evident on his weathered face.

 

“For now, I want you to double the guard on the princess and the queen. On the morrow, you will escort them safely to Castle Black and you will guard them with your life until I return.” He turned away, his eyes cast downward. “And if I should not return─”

 

“Your Grace!” Davos interrupted, provoking a cautionary glance from Stannis. “Begging your pardon, if you mean to march on Winterfell my place is here with you.”

 

“Ser Davos, there is no need for both of us─” The words caught in Stannis’ throat. He couldn’t say what he truly believed ─ that he could not send the one man he cared for above all others to his death. Davos was prepared to die on his command, but while Stannis was still king he would not allow that to happen. “We both know that our situation here is grave. It stands to reason that I may not survive. Therefore, your first duty is to my heir, the Princess Shireen. You will seat her on the throne in my stead. You are the only man I trust for this mission.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.” The frown had not left Davos’ face and Stannis could sense that he was far from finished. “If I may speak?”

 

Stannis considered dismissing him outright, but could not bring himself to do so. Better to let him say his piece and be done with it. Davos could be a bulldog with a bone when something was troubling him. Stannis nodded his assent.

 

“You’ve made it clear that you are not confident that you can win this battle, but yet you are behaving as if you have no choice in the matter. You need not march on Winterfell.”

 

“I cannot retreat, Ser Davos,” Stannis snapped. “I’ve told you before that I’ll not be remembered as the king who ran. It simply isn’t possible now. If I return to Castle Black at least half my army will freeze, starve, or desert. I have no idea how many months or years we would be forced to winter there. After all of that I would have no money left to raise another army to mount another assault. What then, Ser Davos? What would you have me do?”

 

Davos waited patiently for his king to calm down before continuing. He spoke in a soft yet confident tone that Stannis found difficult to resist. 

 

“You have an army of sellswords that were bought and paid for by gold. They served their purpose, but have no loyalty to your cause and I would say best be rid of them. Your Grace has forgotten the work that we began at Castle Black. The Wildlings are in need of a leader ─ they are a vast army in need of organization and they have reason to want to fight because of the threat from the White Walkers.”

 

“The Wildlings rejected me!” Stannis’ patience was wearing thin. They had had this argument before.

 

“You don’t know that, Your Grace. You did not wait to see if Lord Commander Snow was successful in his negotiations. I would advise giving it more time. Also you have another source of men at your disposal that you have yet to consider.”

 

“What source of men have I not considered?”

 

“The Northmen ─ Stark supporters.”

 

“There are no more Stark supporters.” Stannis shook his head, losing patience with his advisor. “Roose Bolton is Warden of the North and all the Northern Houses rally behind him now. We’ve discussed this before, ser.”

 

“I have it on good authority that many of the Northmen despise Roose Bolton for his betrayal of the Starks at the Red Wedding. Many would welcome the chance to remove him from power. Allow me the chance to rally them to your cause, Your Grace.” 

 

There was heat in Davos’ eyes and he looked as passionate as Stannis had ever seen him.

 

“Give me this chance to serve you,” he pleaded. “I promise I will not fail. You need not sacrifice yourself─” 

 

Clenching his fist he tore his gaze from Stannis’, clearly too emotional to continue.

 

At the sight of his struggling knight, something stirred within Stannis that he’d thought long dead. He quickly banished the thought from his mind. He and Davos had been close once ─ perhaps closer than they should have been. But that was before he had become king, and by his own words, kings had no friends. He’d indulged in an improper relationship with Lady Melisandre and it was becoming evident _that_ had been a fatal mistake. Time was running out and he must force himself to think clearly, unswayed by emotion.

 

“You are dismissed, Ser Davos. Go see to the guard. I’ll speak to you later.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Davos bowed but before he could leave, Stannis added, “Be prepared to leave at dawn.”

 

Davos held his tongue, though Stannis could tell from the way his jaw clenched that it cost him some effort to do so.

 

When he was gone, Stannis stared at the map table once more. He attempted to discern a more effective battle strategy for the assault on Winterfell, but the words of his trusted advisor stuck in his mind and he was unable to concentrate. They’d been over this muddy ground before, this was true. He’d convinced himself that Davos was wrong, that a retreat was unthinkable. But after what had happened with the Red Woman, he wondered how much of his reluctance to consider Davos’ argument was due to her influence.

 

Lady Melisandre had always taken the opposite position from Davos. After the defeat upon the Blackwater she constantly drove home the point that she had been absent ─ that the mistake had been his for not listening to her advice. Since they left Dragonstone she had been after him relentlessly to press on, to move forward. This was the time that he must sacrifice more and more and more to the insatiable R'hllor ─ now to include his only child. Stannis closed his eyes, his shoulders slumped from fatigue that he could no longer fend off. If he were to die here in this forsaken wilderness so be it, but he would sacrifice himself before he would allow any harm to befall his daughter.

~~~~

 

Davos was colder than he’d ever been and so tired that he could have slept through the long night that the Red Woman had promised. He’d seen to the guard posted at her tent and to the royal family. He’d attempted to see the king once more to plead his case, but Stannis had refused to see him. He’d returned to his tent in frustration, stoked the brazier and buried himself under a mountain of furs, but sleep would not come. He had to make a decision. What would he do come sunrise ─ disobey his king or abandon him? It was no choice at all. The thought of leaving Stannis to march to his death sickened him and yet it was Stannis who commanded him to do so. There must be another way. He had to make Stannis listen. Davos threw off the bedding and was reaching for his cloak when the king entered his tent without warning, causing his heart to miss a beat.

 

“Ser Davos, I hope that I did not wake you.”

 

The king looked dead on his feet, thin and bony and pale as a skeleton. Davos wondered when he’d slept last. Davos’ first instinct was to reach for him but he stopped himself. The king would not welcome such a gesture of comfort.

 

“No, Your Grace. I couldn’t sleep. I was just coming to see you.”

 

“And now here I am ─ I’ve saved you the trip.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

 

Davos tried not to smile. Not many appreciated the king’s dry sense of humor as he did. It usually surfaced when Stannis was in a rare good mood or a terribly bad one. He sensed that tonight it was the latter and it would be best to hold his tongue.

 

“I’ve considered your counsel carefully and I’ve made my decision regarding the march on Winterfell.”

 

Davos tensed as he waited expectantly, searching for a glimmer of hope in Stannis’ eyes. He found none.

 

“Come sunrise you will prepare your chosen men to escort the royal family back to Castle Black. I will lead what remains of my army to mount an assault on Winterfell. Although we have sustained heavy losses to our numbers, we retain the advantage of surprise and superior training. I cannot allow an opportunity to secure the North to slip through my fingers, no matter the cost. We will march on Winterfell or die in the attempt.”

 

Davos felt ill and he had to fight not to vomit. The king’s orders went against every instinct he possessed. To obey Stannis he would have to abandon his vow to protect him. He would have to leave the man he served, admired, and cared for ─ more than he could admit even to himself ─ to march to certain death. It made no sense, but his duty was to serve at the command of his king, and this is what his king had commanded.

 

“See to it that all is ready in the morning and see that the red priestess remains under guard until you have left.”

 

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

 

For an instant Davos experienced a flash of anger. What heinous act had the Lady Melisandre committed that the king had ordered her confinement? It was her unnatural influence over Stannis that had led them to this impossible situation. She was beautiful and powerful but it was soldiers that won battles, not leeches or shadows. His anger turned quickly to concern as the king turned to leave and swayed on his feet, grasping Davos’ shoulder to steady himself. Davos was certain now that the king had not slept in days.

 

“Your Grace ─ please, you must rest.” Davos knew the king was exhausted beyond reason when he didn’t complain and allowed Davos to lead him to the bed.

 

“I’m not ill─” he murmured as if to himself, “I would only rest my eyes for a few moments…”

 

“Lie here, Your Grace. I’ll wake you before dawn.”

 

Davos managed to get his cloak and boots off and his heavier outer clothing with minimal protest before he collapsed onto the spartan pallet and immediately fell into a deep slumber. Davos arranged the furs over him before donning his cloak and leaving the warm tent.

 

More than an hour passed until he returned to find the king still sleeping peacefully. He’d made all the arrangements and informed the guard that the king was asleep and would rest in the Hand’s tent undisturbed until dawn when they were to awaken them. Davos removed his cloak and sat down to remove his boots. He couldn’t remember being this weary. Was it the absence of hope that made him feel lifeless down to his bones? He knew he should sleep in the chair, lightly dozing and keeping watch over his king. He knew this, and yet the chair was cold and uncomfortable and the bed was warm ─ Stannis warmer still. What harm could it do if in fact this was to be the last night spent in each other’s company?

 

Against his better judgement he crawled beneath the mound of furs and when Stannis didn’t stir he settled himself comfortably against his king’s lean frame. Warm and drowsy, Davos closed his eyes and let himself be soothed by Stannis’ rhythmic breathing, vowing to wake before dawn as his thoughts scattered into nothingness.

 

~~~~

 

Stannis awakened slowly. His eyes registered that it was still dark but his mind couldn’t fathom where he was, only that he was warm and relaxed for the first time in many months. His sleep had not been troubled by the persistent nightmares that had begun shortly after Renly’s death and had only become more intense since they’d journeyed north. For once he hadn’t awoken with a sudden jolt of nerves and the feeling that he’d been suffocating. Moreover, he hadn’t awoken with Lady Melisandre watching him from her seat by the fire as she was wont to do. Under her gaze he could not escape the notion that he was being judged ─ and found to be lacking.

 

With awareness came the discovery of a warm body lying next to him. They were so close that indeed his arm and even one leg were draped casually about their person. He knew instantly from the hard thighs with their coarse hair and from the muscular arms, that this was not his wife or the Lady Melisandre, and yet he was not alarmed. In his drowsy state of semi-consciousness he found the sensation of intimacy not at all unpleasant ─ quite the opposite.

 

“Davos,” he murmured ─ for he would know this man even in darkness.

 

Stannis’ thoughts drifted back to a time long ago, after the siege at Storm’s End, when he’d spent nearly every waking moment in Davos’ company. He’d been captivated by the handsome smuggler who had saved him from starvation and accepted his punishment without argument. Davos was full of laughter and life, possessing the real-world knowledge that Stannis could never hope to learn from his books. Despite his mistrust of lords and smallfolk alike, he’d quickly grown quite fond of this common sailor.

 

To his own astonishment he also found himself experiencing feelings of a more troubling nature. Sometimes after a swim, or by the fire in the evening, he’d catch himself staring longingly at Davos for no reason at all ─ a fluttering sensation deep within his belly that no fair maiden had ever brought forth. He was young and inexperienced in matters of the flesh though he’d been aware of men who had lain with other men before marriage ─ some even after. Stannis had no intention of subjecting himself to the humiliation of pursuing the affection any man or woman, and yet with Davos he’d been tempted almost beyond restraint. He’d often wondered if Davos had been aware or how he would react if indeed he had known of his young Lord’s lustful thoughts.

 

Stannis would never know. After Robert married him off to Selyse Florent, he had never forsaken his vows ─ until the red priestess. He and Selyse had done their duty in the marriage bed but theirs was a union of obligation, not one of love or desire. Even the lust that the red woman had conjured was fleeting and easily replaced by anger. Not one person had ever induced the persistent craving that he had for Davos ─ no mere flutter anymore, but a burning sensation that lingered in his belly and warmed him throughout. Davos was his friend, his trusted advisor, his loyal knight; but if this was to be their last day together he longed for more ─ for what he had steadfastly denied himself all these years.

 

Davos stirred on the edge of wakefulness, and Stannis, already aroused, hardened against his thigh. If Davos rejected him now so be it, but at least he would have a kiss to remember during the brutal days ahead. Before he could change his mind he leaned forward and pressed his lips against those of his onion knight.

 

Davos was still not fully awake and Stannis attempted to be as gentle as he could, considering that he was rarely gentle about anything. Tentatively, he sampled Davos’ upper lip and found it to be thinner than a woman’s and less supple but softer than he’d imagined. Even such brief contact made Stannis’ head swim with passion and as he heard Davos’ breath hitch ─ surely now aware of what Stannis was doing ─ he took his mouth once more, kissing him soundly as his hand gripped his hip and pressed him onto his back.

 

Davos made a sound as if to speak but his words were lost as Stannis’ mouth covered his, stilling his tongue with his own. This time Stannis’ lips lingered, warmed by Davos’ quickening breath. Yet Stannis held back; the ache in his loins was tempered by the guilt at treating his loyal servant with such disrespect. Asleep in his bed, Davos had no opportunity to fend off the advances of his king. Stannis paused a moment, softening his kiss and giving Davos a chance to reject him should he wish to do so. 

 

His doubts were erased when Davos’ fingers burrowed into the hair at the back of his head, nails digging into his scalp. Forcing him closer, Davos began returning his kisses ─ not submissively, but eagerly. Davos’ thick beard felt strange yet not unpleasant rubbing against Stannis’ neck as the knight’s mouth hungrily tasted the sensitive area below his jaw. Stannis groaned softly as he pressed the length of his body against Davos and felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal grinding against him. 

 

The unfamiliar masculinity of Davos moving beneath him, rugged and hard, ignited a passion in Stannis that urged him to abandon all attempts at gentleness. His roaming hands demanded to know all of Davos’ body at once. Fingers gripped flesh firmly enough to bruise but Davos’ low sounds of encouragement begged him to continue. No words were spoken as lips yielded to teeth and rough hands tore purposefully at smallclothes. He’d waited so long and still it seemed an eternity before at last Stannis was able to experience the friction of Davos’ skin against his own, flushed with heat and tacky with sweat. Finally, when the ache became unbearable and he began to thrust urgently between Davos’ thighs, he knew with certainty that Davos belonged to him ─ fully, completely and without reservation. Davos had come to him willingly. Davos would never abandon him.

 

~~~~

 

Davos started awake. He heard low voices outside. How had he allowed himself to doze off? Instantly a smile came to his lips as he remembered. The smile vanished just as quickly when he realized that Stannis was up and dressing himself.

 

“It’s nearly dawn, smuggler. How long do you plan to lie in this morning?”

 

The king’s countenance remained stern and yet Davos knew full well that when Stannis called him “smuggler” he was speaking with affection. He hoped so anyway, for he meant to put that affection to the test this morning. He had come to the king last night with the intention of changing his mind and what had transpired between them had made him even more determined. He could not allow the king to commit such folly as attempting to mount an assault on a fortified castle in winter with his army being at half strength and ill supplied.

 

Davos rose and began to don his clothing. “Your Grace, if I may speak.”

 

Stannis eyed him warily, but nodded his approval, sitting to pull on his boots.

 

“In all of our years together, I’ve never known you to give a rats ass about what others think or say about you. Why, do you suppose, that idle gossip matters to you now?”

 

Stannis raised an eyebrow and Davos thought he detected heat in his cool blue eyes.

 

“What are you suggesting, Ser? I have no wish for anyone else ─ not even the queen─” Davos watched as Stannis’ face reddened, “─especially not the queen ─ to know about─”

 

Suddenly Davos understood. The king had thought he was speaking about matters of a more intimate nature.

 

“No, Your Grace. Begging your pardon. I was referring to your decision not to return to Castle Black and instead proceed to Winterfell.”

 

Stannis hesitated but recovered well. He seemed to remain angry, any tenderness from a few hours earlier absent from his demeanor. 

 

“Yes, of course. I’ve made my decision and I’ll not abide further discussion.”

 

He should have left it there, but Davos could not. What punishment could Stannis possibly devise that would be worse than losing his king?

 

“You’ve made your decision influenced by the Lady Melisandre. She is the one who urged you to move forward. She told you that you have to act now. You’ve obviously lost faith in her. Why do you still follow the very course she set for you instead of plotting your own?”

 

Stannis shot Davos a look of warning, but his brow also wrinkled, as if considering Davos’ words. Davos took it as a sign to continue.

 

“Before she came, would you have willingly engaged an enemy that was better positioned, better supplied, better fortified, and outnumbered your own? I have never known you to value bravado over strategy ─ that was King Robert’s way.”

 

Davos knew he was walking on thin ice bringing up Robert Baratheon, but he was trying to breathe some life into Stannis ─ to get him to want to fight again. Somehow the red witch had drained him and left him subdued and defeated even before the battle had begun. This was Davos’ last chance to free his king from her thrall.

 

“It isn’t bravado!” The king raised his voice in frustration. Stannis shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. Standing, he turned away from Davos and stared at nothing for so long that Davos was convinced he’d lost the argument. He tried one last tactic.

 

“What did she do, Your Grace? What made you turn against her?”

 

The king’s voice was a whisper so low that Davos had to move closer to hear. “Shireen. She wanted me to─” Stannis turned to face him. “─it was madness. I am not Azor Ahai reborn.”

 

“No,” Davos agreed, pushing aside the sudden rage he felt toward the red priestess. “You are King Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You are the one true king of Westeros.”

 

Stannis met his gaze and held it for a few moments before Davos looked down in deference to his authority. The king remained silent, but turned on his heel and reached for his cloak. Davos quickly moved to help him into it.

 

“You have always given me wise counsel, Ser Davos.” He paused, grinding his teeth as he was wont to do when thinking about something unpleasant.

 

Davos held his breath, silently praying to the Seven that Stannis had seen reason.

 

After a short time the king continued, his tone cold but even.

 

“You will prepare the men to break camp. We will return to Castle Black.”

 

Davos exhaled long and slow, a wave of relief washing over him.

 

“Those that wish to return to their families in the South may do so without punishment. Inform those that remain they should not expect to be rewarded until our victory is secured ─ months or even years from now. However, I’ll not forget their loyal service once winter has passed.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

 

Davos could not prevent the smile that burst upon his face like a sunrise.

 

“This pleases you, does it?” Stannis continued to look grim. “That smile may freeze upon your face when winter is upon us and we’re forced to eat rats. There will be no boatload of onions and salted meat to save us this time.”

 

Davos forced his expression to become serious, but inside his heart soared. He would gladly subject himself to Stannis’ ill humor if it meant they had a chance to survive ─ and that he would remain in the service of his king.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does not go into the specifics of what is happening with Selyse or Melisandre or their POVs. Forgive me for that because I wasn't trying to erase them. Melisandre is only dealt with in terms of the POV of Stannis and Davos at this particular moment. This would have taken another few thousand words to deal with properly and I had a deadline. Also, the prompt was specific for Stannis/Davos.
> 
> As always thanks to [Vana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/works) for reading this through for me. You're the best!


End file.
